


Let Me Do This For You

by orodanca



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Sacrifice, Self-Sacrifice, Story: The Adventure of the Three Garridebs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orodanca/pseuds/orodanca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To finally defeat the great villain, Sherlock has to do one final sacrifice and maybe leave this planet forever. And maybe, he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was tired already. Tired of always having to tell John not to risk his life. He agreed he would always let John in on his plans. He would always let him in. But, although he didn't believe on his good days in God, he would always believe when he was in danger. Those two years around the world made him believe in him every day. And every attempt towards John's life made him find again the only entity in this world that could prevent what he was most afraid of.

That's why he went alone this time. He knew that this was gunpoint and nothing else. Yes, he didn't want to die, and would have liked avoiding the bullet, but this time he wasn't going to go on a roof for a showdown with a crazy guy who had snipers pointing their guns at his friends. No, this time, it was a psychopath staring straight back in his eyes and waiting for an opportunity to just get rid of this annoying … _boy_ who kept going around in her life, her marriage and her plan. Plus, he wouldn't want to get John see the actual moment his lovely wife shot his best friend. He avoided the actual moment last time, but still saw the results. If it were to be repeated tonight, he didn't want John to be anywhere near it.

Sherlock stepped inside the building that would finally doom his life. He could say he was a lucky guy, **resurrecting** twice already in his life, but he could feel the adrenaline rush in his blood. His heart was in his throat, his soul on his sleeve and he was prepared to die with the thought of protecting John for the last time. Lestrade and his agents were outside, waiting, so he was at least happy that Mary would be taken care of once he was dead. Just a few more steps and he was in the meeting spot. There was a dim light that shined only upon him, which he had to say - that was a shade melodramatic, but if it was what Mary liked…

He looked around and decided not to say a thing. Be aware of every single sound. If he was to die, he at least wanted to be aware of where the bullet came from. One last deduction. One last time being Sherlock Holmes.

Suddenly, his ears were in full attention as he heard steps. _Hard. Fast. In a hurry. Desperate. Needs to reach on time. Stop this. Why would Mary rush to this meeting? So eager to kill me? No. These are too hard on the ground, lots of weight. I know this sound. No…_ As his thoughts stopped, the person stopped behind him as well.

"Sh…" they wanted to start but Sherlock turned around and quickly put his hand against their mouth.

"John…" he whispers. He let his hand go.

"Sherlock… I thought you said we'd always do this together" John said angrily. He could feel the despair of betrayal in his voice.

"John. Please don't, not now, you weren't supposed to be here, you weren't supposed to watch me die, not again, please" Sherlock said desperately. If begging was his only solution he would do so until he knew John was safe.

"No. Don't. Don't do this."

"I can't. I have to. How will I make sure you're safe? How, please tell me."

"Just let me be here beside you when you're meeting her."

"No, I can't let you do that, she's going to kill me and it's better that way. You can be safe then, John, just trust me."

"How can I trust you when you don't trust me?"

"But I **do**! I **trust** you, please, John." His tone only grew louder and more desperate.

"No. Just let me be here with you. She's my wife after all, I brought her in, it is my bad luck, not yours."

"John… please… let me do this for you one last time."

" _NO, SHERLOCK_!" John shouted. "I won't! Why? Because I am sick of always seeing you be the one to sacrifice. You are not indispensable, you git! You can't just come back to life after each fall, or bullet or anything. I need you to just survive one without having to die! I am tired of watching you die!"

"And that's why I didn't want you to be here, John, please…"

"No, Sherlock. I'm done. Let me be the one to sacrifice for once."

"I can't. John… John, I can't" he whispered, letting the first teardrops that formed in his eyes fall down his cheeks.

"Sherlock, you won't impress me, let me be here for you."

In that moment, Sherlock's tears turned into desperate sobs. He couldn't bear the thought of losing John. He worked so hard until now just to protect him, why was he so stubborn to throw it all away now? Now when he was so close to finally being done with this long mission. "Let me… do this for you, John…" he whispered through his tears, falling to his knees.

"Nope" John replied, putting one hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "No…"

"But why…"

"Because…"

"Just let me…"

John sighed. "Sherlock… You are an idiot" he continued.

"Why?" the detective replied, looking up to his conductor of light.

"JUST LET ME DO THIS ONCE FOR YOU, SHERLOCK! You can't sacrifice yourself forever, LET ME DO THIS, DAMMIT!" John shouted back at his crying detective. That moment, he felt the bullet. It ripped through his abdomen just like Sherlock felt it. John was happy that he was finally the one sacrificing himself. He let himself fall down with a soft smirk. " _Finally_ " he whispered before he felt himself fall into unconsciousness.

Sherlock held tightly onto John's body. They would fall together. But _no no no no no!_ John was now unconscious, on the floor, and blood was flowing out of his body.

"No." He looked angrily towards the wound.

"You won't die on me. John Watson. No… He doesn't die, DID YOU HEAR ME?" he cried out as he turned to face the shooter.

"Oh, I wouldn't even want that. After all, he's my husband, I still want to keep him" Mary replied with a wicked smile. "You, on the other hand. You've been bugging me a lot. So I think I can dispose you. How's that sound, darling? Didn't you come here for this exactly? To be put down like the puppy you are?" she continued.

That struck the last chord inside him. With the most furious cry, he launched himself to Mary's neck, not caring if he would be shot or not. Miraculously, although he was very close, Mary couldn't pull the trigger, for it was blocked by Sherlock's hand. With a furious slap and a punch, the shooter was now on the floor and the detective didn't waste a moment. He quickly took the gun, loaded it and pointed it at her head.

"Say now your last words, I'll make sure to pass them on to John" he threatened, the anger and fierceness most evident in his voice. Mary breathed a few times, before letting a sly laugh out.

"Oh, honey. You said that shot was surgery. Did you like it this time? I hope it will be as perfect as I calculated."

"Worry not, I won't be a surgeon, I'll be the butcher."

"Right then. I'm happy I burned you properly. Do it now or he won't survive."

"Fine by me" he said as he aimed.

"One last thing and remember it, Sherlock." she chuckled. "Psycho… _is the new sexy_ " she replied with a wink. The smile would be stuck on her face forever, after a gun was fired towards her brain.

"Done." Sherlock replied and unloaded the gun. He rushed towards his doctor.

"John?" No sign. "No… Please, stay alive." He crouched down to lift his body and ran out of the house.

"GREG! GREG, WHERE IS THE AMBULANCE?"

"Right HERE, SHERLOCK, GOODNESS! RUSH, NOW, TO THE NEAREST HOSPITAL, WE WANT THIS MAN ALIVE!" Lestrade shouted at the doctors waiting for their patient who was bleeding heavily.

"Sir, what is his blood type?"

Sherlock replied to the paramedics' questions and rushed inside the ambulance. After they finally put all the wires and connected John to the machinery that would keep him alive, Sherlock took John's left hand in his. Although he could hear the machinery's sounds, he still went to feel his pulse, wanting to make sure it was still there. Weakened, but still there.

"John… please… I'm sorry I took too long… Please… just… come to me…" he whispered and started sobbing again. All he could do for now was hope.


	2. Chapter 2

John's mind raced. He saw her blonde hair once again and then felt the bullet. He smiled to himself, and whispered " _finally_ " as he went down. He actually expected to only see and feel darkness around him.

But suddenly, he was somewhere. In sand. In dirt. And he could hear gunshots everywhere. He raised his eyes and saw the war. _Why do I always have to get back here?_ He thought.

"Because you never left it, John" Mary said with a smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just strolling around. Making sure you're dying. After all, you always did say you were dying when you were with me. Now I'm here to ensure it."

"If this is how it goes, then I'm afraid I'd rather not die like this."

"Oh, but you don't have a choice, **John**."

"Don't say my name. It feels like the worst thing ever when you say it."

"Oh but why? Don't you love me, **John**? Don't you care about me, **John**? Don't you want me, **John**?" Mary said with a wicked grin, approaching him with each step. And with each of her steps, he fell more to the ground.

When she was close, he finally lied down on the ground.

"Please…"

"Oh, begging now, **John**. I see, **John**. You love me a lot, **John**."

"No…" he whispered as his eyes were closing.

"Well, come on. Say you love me, **John**."

"I don't."

"Well, that's a bummer, **John**. I thought you did. Or is that weirdo more important to you than me now, **John**?"

"Who?" he said with his eyes closed, life leaving his voice each second.

"Oh, that idiot of a detective. I wonder why you even moved in with him the first time. I mean, yeah, he did save your life, but why keep sticking with him?"

" _Sh_ …" he whispered again.

"Oh yeah, you remember him? I thought the only person you remembered was me, **John** " she replied with a smirk.

" _Sher_ …"

"Oh, come on, don’t tell me you'll actually remember him."

" _Sherlock_ …" he breathed. His eyes opened quickly.

"Oh come on, I hope it wasn't because I said something about him, right, **John**?"

He looked up to her, then around at his surroundings. He felt the excruciating pain, yet he didn't want to give up. He felt how he got closer to life again.

"What are you looking for, **John?** "

He looked to his left. A gun. Without hesitation, he gripped the gun, grunting from the stretch. He lied on his back again.

"Oh, come on, you're not getting better now, are you, **John**?" she mocked him.

He closed one eye at aimed at her.

"No, _wait_ " she replied quickly, seeing her end coming. He pushed the trigger and heard one final " **JOHN!** " from her voice before she was dead in front of his eyes. He slowly got up, grunting again just a little.

Looking up, he saw a door. Feeling like it was calling for him, he ran desperate towards it and stopped right in front.

 **221 B**.

It was lurking him inside and so, without hesitation, he pushed it open and passed its threshold.

Expecting to see the well-known stairs, he was surprised to see just plain white light. And it got more intense and more, until it blinded him.

" _Sherlock_ …" he whispered, before he fell asleep again.

* * *

 

The next time he woke up, there was a nurse walking around him.

"Oh, you're awake! I'm so glad. How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Mmm… good… I think…"

"You're now on lots of morphine so it's okay if you feel hazy."

"Yeah, I know, I went through this before" he replied with a small smile.

"Dear God, how do you keep getting yourself in this situation?"

"I honestly don't know. Just my luck, I guess."

The nurse chuckled softly. "You're quite a miracle you know? Heart stopped for a little but you quickly came back. Good thing, otherwise I think your partner would have been devastated."

John quickly turned to her. "Who?"

"Oh, you have a man waiting outside. Paramedics told me he got you to the ambulance. Went with you in it and kept holding your hand and crying, ' _John, don't leave me, please_ '…" she suddenly stopped when she saw his shocked expression. "But maybe that's none of my business" she continued with a small chuckle.

"That's alright, thank you…" he replied softly.

"If you need anything, just press that button, I'm near. If it's an emergency, don't worry, you're in great hands."

"Thank you again, miss…"

"Call me Ann. Alright, now rest, you need it."

"Thank you" he replied with a soft smile.

* * *

 

"He's pulled through" the doctor said to Sherlock.

"Thank God!" he sighed.

"Quite desperate to come to life, too. He woke up, big eyes and whispered like he almost wanted to shout: ' _Sherlock_!' I said: _well, we know his brain is alright, 'cause he's been thinking of someone_ " the doctor replied with a smirk.

Sherlock remained with a surprised look on his face before muttering a 'thank you' and leaving.


	3. Chapter 3

The entire night, Sherlock held tight onto John's hand, keeping an eye on him, afraid he might lose him. He wanted to stay with him while the doctors checked on him as well, but after some debating, he was pursued to go outside for some fresh air. That was when the idea struck him: flowers. He could get him some flowers first. After all, he was expecting John's friends to send him some once they all knew about his situation.

The London air was chilly and he felt grateful for the freshness cold bore with it. At least he didn't have to walk too much - he spotted a flower shop right on the other side of the street. After all, he was too paranoid something might happen to John to go too far away. After he looked around, he settled on his final bouquet and made his card. He paid the lady and walked back to the hospital.

* * *

 

John woke up when his doctors came, to make sure his check up was going perfectly. Once they were done, only Ann remained with him.

"Miss Ann?" he asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Did Sherlock stay? Or is he gone?"

"Oh. He slept right next to you. When I say slept, I mean just watch over you. He didn't want to leave when we came in but I think he's just walking around. Should be back soon. But if you're feeling tired, it's better not to wait for him. Sleeping is the best option for now."

"Alright, thank you for telling me" John replied with a nod and let his head fall back on the pillow. Soon, he was asleep again.

* * *

 

Sherlock entered John's hospital room slowly, afraid he might wake him up. He looked around and all he could see was flowers. Hydrangeas, lilies, roses, tulips. It was one garden sprung in a closed room. He passed each bouquet to read their cards.

First bouquet: gladioluses.

 _"To our favorite soldier. Thank you for always being the one to bring Sherlock to us although he's sometimes a pain in the arse. Get well, and hope we'll see you on a crime scene soon! - Scotland Yard (read the back as well)._ "

Sherlock chuckled to himself as he read the lines but turned the card on its other side.

" _John, I don't think you know how grateful I am that you came in Sherlock's life. Thank you for always keeping him alright. Now rest and have a quick recovery! See you soon! - Greg._ "

At this, he couldn't help himself from shedding a few tears.

He moved on: hydrangeas.

" _John, I hope you'll recover as quickly as you can. Thank you for being such a good friend to me. I hope you and Sherlock will finally be happy! Take care. I'll come and pay you a visit as soon as I can. Love, Molly._ "

He felt a sort of warmth inside his body. He was happy his friend was so accepting, thankful he had such a strong lady as his friend.

Sherlock moved to the bouquet of gerberas, which looked beautiful, being combined in their warm tones.

" _Get well soon, mate! Hope you're well and happy. I'm glad I helped you find him! - Mike Stamford_ "

He outright laughed and said to himself: "Now he'll call himself our Cupid."

And there were the tulips from his old colleagues, lilies from Harry, roses from Mrs. Hudson and then one more bouquet. It stood on his left side, near the monitors. A grand bouquet of blue and purple irises. A card with only the name visible for a first time view. **Mycroft Holmes**.

Seeing the sender's name, he couldn't help but be paranoid a little. Yes, it was Mycroft's plan - a little, they did work on it together - but what would his brother say about John now that he was asleep with a healing bullet wound? He carefully took it and opened it. Fine handwriting was left with black ink on a beautiful paper. It was his brother's writing, no doubt. " _Dear John._ " Dear? Now that was a first.

" _Dear John,_

_I am here to thank you for everything you have done for me and especially for Sherlock. I made you promise me on that airplane that you would take care of him. But I think you have done this quite gracefully from the very beginning of your relationship. Now that every aspect that could impede it is gone, I hope you'll finally find your true happiness. Best regards, Mycroft._

_P.S. By the way, I hope you and my brother are finally going to discuss your problem. It's been painful since the very beginning._ "

Sherlock couldn't help himself from grinning like an idiot. His brother did care a lot about him. And now, he just saw how much love he had for him and also his best friend, his partner, his… love. Small chuckles left his lips as this thought and he couldn't wait to see John's reaction.

He finally took a vase and put his own bouquet, right next to John, but on his right side. He looked at it and repositioned some of the flowers, making sure they would look perfect for when he woke up.

"Oh, don't fumble with them too much or they won't be as beautiful" John said weakly, coming out of his drug-induced sleep.

"But why? I want them to be perfect for you, John."

John heard his name coming from the right lips and he felt like heaven descended upon him. That sweet, warm voice, calling his name.

"They already are. They don't need any adjustments. They are beautiful just like that" he said, pressing the button for his bed to be raised. And he meant his words. It was just like he said. Those words meant more to him than they appeared to. They were intended for Sherlock.

His detective's look meant he caught their meaning and he smiled softly.

"Hello, Sherlock."

"Hello, John" the detective replied smiling wide.

"So, I see people have already sent me the usual **"you're in hospital"** bouquets."

"Well, yeah, they also sent lots of beautiful messages."

"You've already read them, haven't you?"

Sherlock looked guilty.

"Oh, Sherlock…" John sighed, his breath followed by a small chuckle of disapproval.

"Well, what did you want me to do?"

"Don't worry, it's alright. I see you've also brought some flowers."

"Well, I couldn't just fall out of tradition, could I?" he said with a smirk.

"Did you attach a card?" John teased.

Sherlock fumbled a little and bit his lip until he replied:

"In fact, I did."

"May I read it now?"

"In front of me?" Sherlock asked, shocked.

"Yes, is there a problem?" John replied with a smirk.

"No… But that was actually wrote for you in case you read it in the absence of me."

"I'll just pretend you are a part of the most beautiful bouquet while I read it so you won't feel awkward."

Sherlock blushed and took the card out. He passed it to John with a small "okay".

" _Dearest John,_

_I am writing these words while I'm just across the street. I'm afraid something will happen with you and I'll lose you again. I can't stand the thought of that happening. Yesterday, I went into the house with my mind and heart prepared to die. I knew that Mary was ready to kill anyone to make sure she could at least save herself from the ruins that had once formed her empire. I knew that I could keep you safe that way. I also knew that you would suffer, but I wouldn't have let you alone. And this time, I was ready to die without you having to watch it happen. I was sick of this scenario always repeating itself._

_Once you turned up , I was desperate. All I wanted was for you to live. To survive this nightmare. But you were there to destroy my plans. I begged for you to leave because I couldn't bear the thought of seeing my doctor die in my arms. But, as I said, you were there to crush that as well._

_You got shot. And you died. I was quick with Mary but I was so desperate. I got you as fast as I could to the ambulance. I ran inside. I answered any question the doctors had, just so I could get quicker to your safety. I needed to be sure you were alive._

_You actually died, John. Your heart failed for a little. I don't know what happened but I just know I was on the corridor, pacing around frantically and one doctor came to me and told me they were doing your papers. Because you died. And then, like a miracle, you survived. You came back to life. And one doctor said you whispered my name as you woke up. I couldn't help but leave to clear my mind a little. I have now some things to tell you…_ "

John would have continued but suddenly Sherlock was speaking and tears were forming in his eyes.

"I actually thought I lost you, John. And when I heard you woke up, I said to myself: how can he keep being a miracle? You are a miracle that came unexpectedly in my life and kept being one. You were the one who always kept me right. You kept me alive.

When that doctor told me that your first word was _Sherlock_ , I thought how much injustice I have made you. When I woke up after Mary shot me, I went so deep and I've gotten to my greatest fears. That's why my heart gave up. But then I reminded myself of you. And the danger around you. That's why she was my first word and I am so sorry, John, that it had to be like that."

"Sherlock…" John moaned in disapproval.

"Wait, I'm not finished. _John_. I want to say that the time when I was most desperate was that moment when your heart failed. I couldn't help myself from praying that you would be alright. Because you know what I can't bear? A life without you. Without your voice, your small smirks, your scent, just without _John_. And I need you back and at this hour I don't even care if you don't feel the same because I've been holding this back for too long and I almost lost you. I actually lost you for a little. So I learned I had to tell this now, while I had time."

John looked hopeful into Sherlock's eyes.

" **I love you** " they said together. "John Watson… I love you… Wait, what?" Sherlock stopped, looking puzzled.

John extended his hand to reach for Sherlock's. He finally took it into his and stroke it with his thumb.

"I love you, idiot."

That was the moment everything crushed over Sherlock's head and he started crying. He finally stood down near John and took his body between his arms. Sobbing, but smiling as well, he whispered again and again "I love you, I love you, I love you, John."

* * *

 

John had never felt that happy, and so, embracing him back, whispered into his hair sweet "I love you too"s. After Sherlock had finally stopped from his sobs, his doctor finally took his chin and made him look up.

"Look at me" John said softly. Sherlock's eyes met his.

"I love you more than anything and I'm so glad you finally let me do this for you."

"I didn't let you, you were your stubborn self" the detective replied with a small pout.

"Well, technically, yeah."

"Also you didn't read it all, read at least the ending."

"Okay" John laughed.

" _I am so happy I finally got to tell you my feelings. I hope I'll always have you by my side, John Watson._

_With love,_

_Your Sherlock Holmes._

_P.S. These are gardenias that mean secret love. After all, my love for you was quite the secret until now. But I promise you something: nobody will ever make me doubt my feelings or make me repress them. Because I'm ready to tell everyone that the only person in this world who makes me a great man is the best of them all, and that's you, John Watson._ "

John looked up to him with a few tears in the corner of his eyes.

"They are beautiful, but they are not a secret anymore."

"Well, yeah."

"I'll buy you roses."

"Why?" Sherlock asked puzzled.

"Because there isn't love more passionate than mine for you."

At this, Sherlock couldn't help but move up a little to get closer to John. His eyes right over his doctor's, he let his thumb run along John's cheek.

At this contact, his eyebrows rose in a question to which John replied:

" _I don't mind_."

" _Anytime_ " Sherlock whispered as he finally closed the gap between them.

* * *

 

John's lips weren't soft. The lack of hydration took its toll, but still, they were deliciously sweet and something Sherlock wanted more of. But he thought he'd keep this simple. Wanting, leaving place for more. They couldn't just passionately kiss in a hospital.

* * *

 

John craved more. But even he knew that, although Sherlock's lips were heaven and sin at the same time, he had to keep himself from ravishing the man. Still, he let one hand cup his head, playing with the curls and let a small moan of happiness fall of his lips.

"FINALLY!" two voices were heard shouting.

Sherlock quickly got up, blushing. Greg and Mycroft were sitting in front of the open door, smiling.

* * *

 

"I can't believe Sherlock remembered my actual name, John!" Greg cried happily as they told their tales and news to each other.

"I'm so sad I wasn't awake to see that happen" John joked.

* * *

 

"Sherlock. I am sorry."

"Why? And since when are you apologizing for things?" Sherlock replied, looking shocked.

"Because I didn't know how long this plan was actually going to take."

"That's not a problem…"

"Not Mary" Mycroft interrupted him. "John."

Sherlock looked completely puzzled.

"Since when did you have a plan with him?"

"Oh, but I think you can recall it."

The detective still couldn't understand it.

" **The promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption**. Remember?"

At that point Sherlock finally remembered the moment, the words echoing in his ears. He looked up to his brother and taking him in a hug, he whispered a small "thank you".

* * *

 

"Oh look, the brothers are finally reunited. Aren't they cute?" Greg teased.

"GAVIN!" Sherlock shouted.

"And here I was thinking he actually did remember your name" John joked.

* * *

 

Months after, Sherlock and John were in their bedroom, sitting together, facing each other. John's hand traced small patterns on his lover's chest. He couldn't help but notice that their bullet scars made by Mary were matching. Sherlock's on the left abdomen, his on the right abdomen.

He thought of the irony of this: his former wife, while completely against this relationship, was the one to bring them together and even more so, making a scar that would only bring them together. While looking at his beautiful lover, he couldn't help but thank the fate.

"I'm happy you're here" he whispered softly.

"Me too" Sherlock replied, planting a soft kiss on his lover's lips.

* * *

 

When other people ask about John's ended marriage, there's only one reply.

"Mary was about to be sentenced to death. Sherlock helped me."

"Did he save her?" they would say.

"Oh no" John would reply with a smile. "He insured it."


End file.
